


Reunited.

by MycroftsBum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Reference to Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftsBum/pseuds/MycroftsBum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's drug abuse brings two men together, but, they somehow already know each other. Can Mycroft work through the issues of his past and finally come to terms with his present?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh for goodness sake Sher-”  
“Yes, I know. Shut up and come and bail me.” Sherlock demanded before Mycroft could finish what he was saying.  
“Who was your arresting officer?” `he asked wearily.  
“Graham Lestrange, or something. Wasn't really paying attention.” Sherlock mused, bored already of the conversation. Mycroft sighed loudly on the other end of the phone.  
“I am on my way, try not get in any fights” he warned, but Sherlock had already hung up. Mycroft ran his hands over his face. He was accustomed to being woken up in the middle of the night for his job, but that didn't make going to Scotland Yard to bail his little brother's drug charges any easier. 

 

“I am looking for an officer Lestrange? Graham Lestrange?” Mycroft asked the man at the reception, who was looking back at him cluelessly. He flipped through some sheets on his desk and shook his head “Sorry. No officer Lestrange here tonight. What's the name of the suspect?” he asked, eyes still trained on his papers. Suspect. Mycroft clenched his jaw at the thought of his younger brother being treated as a criminal, despite the fact that he was, in fact, a criminal.  
“Sherlock Holmes.” Mycroft answered dutifully. More paper flipping before the man spoke again.  
“Holmes, yeah I got him. Arresting officer is-” he said, his eyes scanning the page.  
“He's mine, Billy.” A voice said behind Mycroft. He stiffened. The voice sounded afwully familiar. Rough with tiredness and deeper with age, but definitely the same voice. Mycroft had never expected to run into him again, let alone in a situation like this. Mycroft straightened his features and braced himself for what he would see when he turned around.  
“Sergeant Lestrade” Mycroft greeted, annoyed that he could not rationalise the drop in his stomach, as well as the way his eyes betrayed him in not being able to resist the glance to the other man's ring finger, seeing that the ring was still in pride of place. Lestrade's jaw dropped. Forgetting where he was for a moment, he smiled brightly, and Mycroft cursed that he hadn't managed to get over that smile after all these years.  
“My” Greg all but sighed “You look great. How are you doing?”  
“Mycroft” he corrected “And considering it is the middle of the night and you have arrested my younger brother, I would venture to say, as well as can be expected.” he said, not willing to engage in small talk, no matter how much he knew he wanted to speak to him. Realisation dawned over Greg's face, which was quickly replaced by guilt.  
“I didn't know he was your brother.” Greg told Mycroft, moving away from the desk so that Billy wouldn't overhear everything they said.  
“Ah. He was still calling himself William when you knew him.” Mycroft said by way of explanation. Greg shook his head.  
“Bloody hell. Will. What happened?” he asked, turning to Mycroft, all the information and change clearly too much for him.  
“He tried drugs and quickly got addicted, it tends to be what happens. Can I bail him now, please?” Mycroft asked, purposely keeping his tone distant. Greg ran his hair through his hair, which was now beginning to grey, though Mycroft did think it suited him nicely.  
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I'll just give Billy the papers and he'll process them.” Greg said, receiving a tight lipped smile in return. A few moments later, Greg returned. “Wait here, I'll just go fetch him.” he said before disappearing out another door that led to the holding cells. 

“Yes. No drugs. I understand. You have truly changed my life.” Mycroft could hear Sherlock grumble in the distance.  
“Sherlock.” Mycroft addressed him curtly as they approached. Sherlock stopped mid stride and looked over both men. Mycroft struggled to keep his face indifferent as his brother studied him.  
“You know each other. How?” Sherlock turned his back to Greg, speaking directly to Mycroft. Greg raised his brows and looked to Mycroft too.  
“He does that too, now?” Greg asked.  
“I taught him.” Mycroft answered vaguely, ignoring Sherlock all together. He frowned.  
“You don't tell people about your deductions” Sherlock pointed out.  
“Not any more.” he corrected. He could see Sherlock go into his mind palace and sighed internally at what would surely be a disastrous conclusion to a disastrous night.  
“Gweg” Sherlock mumbled to himself, his eyes closed, causing Mycroft to grimace. He opened his eyes and fixed Greg with a hard stare. “Can we go now?” he asked, catching Mycroft, who had been expecting Sherlock to cause a scene, by surprise. Greg sent a questioning look to Billy, who nodded back to him. “Yeah, go talk to Billy there and he'll let you know what's going on.” Greg told him.  
Sherlock sloped off, leaving Mycroft and Greg alone once again. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Greg asked in a quiet voice.  
“No. Thank you.” Mycroft answered, staring off at Sherlock.  
“Have you considered rehab?” Greg pushed, reminding Mycroft of just how subborn the other man could be.  
“It is under control.” Mycroft replied through pursed lips.  
“Doesn't look like it.” Greg snorted. Mycroft narrowed his eyes.  
“I am going to see to Sherlock. It was nice seeing you again, Gregory” Mycroft lied. 

“See you again, Lestrade.” Sherlock called as they exited into the cold winter night. Mycroft rolled his eyes. Sherlock had never managed to master the correct way to say 'Greg' in his childhood, so why would he bother learning it now? Typical Sherlock. 

They drove in silence until a sharp “Left.” was growled from Sherlock as Mycroft drove straight through the junction.  
“We are not going to your squalor tonight, dear brother. You will stay in mine and can leave tomorrow.” Mycroft informed him, being awarded a loud huff for his troubles. “If you were bad enough to get caught, that means you are bad enough to not be allowed stay alone. No arguments.” Mycroft reiterating, gaining yet another huff as Sherlock stared out the window.  
“You never did mention why he stopped coming around.” Sherlock said casually after another few moments of quiet.  
“No. I did not.” Mycroft answered, keeping his gaze trained on the road.  
“Why?” Sherlock pressed.  
“It was not relevant. And in any case, you have already deduced it.” Mycroft pointed out, causing Sherlock to hum.  
“Good point. Surprising he never picked up the french accent.” Sherlock mused.  
“Indeed.” Mycroft said, signifying that the conversation was over. 

Once they were back at Mycroft's home, he settled Sherlock to bed in a room near him and went back to bed himself, even if it was only a few more hours till he would be getting up for work. He lay his head back against his pillow and stared to the ceiling, memories of the times he had spent with Greg flashing through his mind before he finally drifted back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse into what happened in the boy's past and what made them grow apart.

“And then I had heated sex with my professor.” Mycroft said in the middle of his otherwise ordinary sentence.   
“Hmm, that's nice, My.” Greg hummed absent mindedly. Mycroft sighed loudly and turned to fix Greg with a glare.   
“Gregory” he said sternly, and Greg came out of the daze he was in, looking to his boyfriend with an expression of concern.   
“Just get it over with already.” Mycroft huffed, clenching his jaw.   
“Get what over with?” Greg asked, chewing on his lip.   
“The break up.” Mycroft said, trying to keep his voice steady. He had practised how this conversation would go, thought of every possible thing Greg would say, and how he would reply. What he hadn't taken into account, was the way Greg's face dropped and how his voice was the smallest Mycroft had ever heard it when he asked “Break up?”.  
“Yes. Break up with me. Just do it, I'm not going to cause a fuss.” Mycroft pressed, determined to continue to the plan, no matter how much harder it was to do it in person.   
“You want me to break up with you? You don't want to be with me?” Greg asked, his voice audibly strained. Mycroft took a moment to swallow before trusting himself to speak again.   
“Well, no. But that hardly matters. As I said, I will not make a fuss. I would just rather you get it over with quickly.” Mycroft explained, having to clamp his teeth together once he had finished to keep his face from sagging. Greg looked at him intently, before leaning in and, to Mycroft's surprise, giving him a tender kiss.   
“I don't want to break up with you.” Greg assured Mycroft, his hand cupping his cheek.   
“Then why have you been acting like you do?” Mycroft fired back, trying not to be drawn in.   
“I haven't been.” Greg mumbled in an unconvincing manner.   
“You have been quiet and withdrawn. Your excuses for being busy are 'stuff'. And you constantly go to say something and then stop.” Mycroft ranted, the distress clear in his voice. He watched Greg take a deep breath and braced himself.   
“I need to tell you something. And it's kind of hard to say.” Greg said solemnly, staring down at his hands.   
“Just say it, for goodness sake.” Mycroft snapped, the tension from the past few weeks becoming almost too much.   
“I'm moving.” Greg said hopelessly. Mycroft's face softened as he tilted his head to study Greg.   
“Moving where?” Mycroft asked, his mind rushing.   
“France.” Greg mumbled, finally raising his eyes to meet Mycroft's. Mycroft shook his head, trying to determine if Greg was serious, but hoping he wasn't.   
“France” Mycroft repeated to himself, even though usually he abhorred repetition. “Why?” he asked quietly, not even bothering to deduce him.   
“My Grand pére had a fall, so he can't work at the bakery anymore. My Dad's going to take over from him, and they want to train me in too.” Greg explained with emotionless eyes, he had already fought against this enough to no avail. Mycroft frowned at him and shook his head.   
“No. Don't be ridiculous. You can't be a baker, you want to go to the police.” Mycroft pleaded, his head for the first time not making sense of what was going on.   
“I did rubbish in my A levels, wouldn't have even been any hope for me passing the entrance exams.” Greg shrugged. Mycroft was silent for a long while before finally looking back up to Greg, his eyes threatening to cry. “You can't go.” he said, his voice barely over a breath.   
“I've no choice, My.” Greg said, looking broken. “Come here.” he muttered, enveloping Mycroft in his arms, who balled his fists into Greg's shirt. “It won't be that long. As soon as I've learned the trade and gained some experience I'll come back.” Greg spoke softly, petting Mycroft's hair “And then I can have a nice little café and bakery, and you can have meetings with all your politician people there. It will be fine.” he murmured straight into Mycroft's ear.   
“But I don't want you go.” Mycrot sniffed. At least if Greg had have broken up with him, Mycroft could have fixed whatever he had done wrong, but this, this was hopeless. Mycroft had never felt so not in control in his whole life.   
“I don't want to go either.” Greg murmured. Mycroft rubbed at his eyes and moved away from Greg's grasp momentarily, before rejoining him by straddling his lap. Greg furrowed his brow.   
“My, what are you doing?” he asked confusedly.   
“We are going to have sex.” he said matter of factly, starting to unbutton Greg's shirt. Greg placed his hands on Mycroft's, stilling them.   
“We don't have to do this. You wanted to wait, this doesn't mean we should rush into it.” Greg reminded him. Mycroft looked openly at Greg's face.   
“I want to do this.” he answered honestly. Greg gave his boyfriend a bitter-sweet smile before tipping his head up to kiss him tenderly. “Are you sure about this?” Greg murmured against his lip and his fingers crept inside the hem of Mycroft's shirt.   
Mycroft swallowed dryly and nodded “Gregory. I want you to make love to me.” he told him, his voice rasp with emotion.   
“Come on.” Greg said as he moved Mycroft from his lap and took his hand as he led him up the stairs to his bedroom. Mycroft could feel his heart hammer and his head swim with thoughts. He was in a daze as Greg lay him down and unbuttoned his shirt, only coming back to himself when Greg started to kiss his chest. Greg looked up at Mycroft threading his fingers into his hair. “I love you.” he said earnestly. Greg smiled up at him through his eyelashes and crawled over him. “I love you too, My.” he said just as intensely, placing his lips against Mycroft's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is super late. I've had Christmas exams for uni and things have been insane. It's a bit shorter than I usually like, but it's all I could manage unfortunately. Though I am finished this Friday so I will be storming through this Fic after then! Please leave any feedback you like because I would really appreciate it.   
> Thanks for reading, guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft needs to deal with Greg and his involvement with Sherlock.

“Sir, your brother is behaving oddly.” Mycroft's personal assistant informed him as she entered his office with a bundle of files. Mycroft rolled his eyes and instinctively reached for his tea. “I would be worried if he was behaving in any way but odd.” Mycroft commented, holding his hand out to receive the files.  
“He has been hanging around with the sergeant that arrested him the other night. Sargent Gregory Lestrade.” Mycroft's eyes snapped up to his assistant.  
“Why? What has he been doing? How long has this been going on for and why did you not tell me sooner? I want a full report. Now.” Mycroft demanded. Anthea raised her eyebrows, unaccustomed to such an outburst from her boss. After bristling, she came back to herself.  
“Sherlock Holmes has been turning up to crime scenes, three in the last two weeks. Sargent Lestrade has been trying to get him to leave, but is unwilling to threaten arrest, even though it is within his power. I did not tell you sooner as any sooner would have been in breach of your instructions.” she said, flipping to a page in her notebook and reading aloud “Mr Holmes will be informed when Sherlock Holmes is in contact with a new person once the time spent together exceeds twenty percent over a two week period.” Mycroft hummed as she repeated the words he had told her when she had first started in this position. “Should I bring him in for security clearance, sir?” Anthea asked, already typing on her phone to organise the details.  
“Hm? No. No, not yet.” Mycroft mumbled, looking at the grainy CCTV still of Greg and Sherlock at a crime scene. Anthea furrowed her brow. Her boss wasn't one to break from routine, and by now, this was standard procedure.  
“Not yet, sir?” she asked, just to be sure she wasn't missing something.  
“Sargent Gregory Lestrade is a face from the past. There is no need to clear him, though, I would appreciate it if Sherlock ceased to be in contact with him.” Mycroft told his assistant, who looked at him curiously.  
“And how do you wish for that to be done?” she asked. Mycroft raised his hand to his face and rubbed his jaw in thought.  
“I want him to be transferred to another station. Preferably one rather far away.” Mycroft informed Anthea. “Perhaps France.” he mumbled bitterly.  
“France, sir?” she asked, stopping in the middle of typing.  
“No. Never mind. Somewhere in the countryside. Set up the arrangements and then send for Sargent Lestrade for a meeting.” Anthea nodded once and left the room to make the details.  
By the next day, everything was organised. Mycroft watched the feed as Greg was approached by the black car. He rolled his eyes at the way Greg broadened his stance when confronted by one of Mycroft's staff. “Just get in the car you buffoon.” he muttered to himself. Anthea cleared her throat  
“Your tea, sir.” He jerked his head up and nodded. Her eyes flicked to the screen as she placed the tray on the desk. “Sir. Is everything okay?” she asked tentatively, unsure of how her boss would react. He furrowed his brow and met her gaze “If there was something that was not okay, and it concerned you, you would be informed.” he said with no waver to his voice. Anthea of course knew she was being fobbed off, but nodded all the same. “Of course, Sir. I will notify you as soon as Sargent Lestrade arrives and escort him straight to you.” she said before turning and leaving the room. Mycroft sipped at his tea while he brought his attention back to the CCTV feed. By now, Greg had to be man handled into the car. Once he was bundles inside, the car pulled off and Mycroft prepared himself to see Greg again. Mycroft hadn't gone to any special effort for the occasion, why would he? So what if he chose to wear a blue tie today, it was only coincidence that Greg had always commented on how blue complimented Mycroft's eyes. He exhaled a breath and shuffled through the files he would discuss with Greg. He would be sent to a small station in Somerset. Nothing much happened there, and that was likely to drive Greg insane, though there was nothing Mycroft could do about that. 

At the sound of his mobile going off, Mycroft braced himself. A moment later, he could hear Greg speaking gruffly in the distance, demanding to know what was going on.  
“Good day, Sargent. Do take a seat.” Mycroft greeted, gesturing to the chair across his desk, but not raising his eyes to meet Greg's. Greg baulked at him. “Mycroft? What the bloody hell was that all about?” he asked, still high from the adrenaline of his kidnapping. Mycroft raised his head and repeated himself “Do take a seat, Sargent.” Mycroft said firmly. Greg stared at him before reluctantly sitting down.  
“My. What's this all about?” he asked, trying to keep his voice patient.  
“Mycroft” he corrected through gritted teeth. “This meeting is strictly business. I am afraid you are required elsewhere.” Mycroft told him, lacing his fingers together.  
“Required elsewhere. What's that supposed to mean?” Greg asked, scrunching his face up. Mycroft let out a muted sigh of exasperation.  
“Your particular skill set has been seen to hold more worth elsewhere. You are being transferred to Somerset at the end of the month.” Mycroft informed him, looking up at a new email that came in on his laptop. Greg stared at him in disbelief “What? No. I can't go to Somerset. My whole life is here.” Greg said shaking his head. “What is this really about?” Greg pushed. Mycroft let out a more audible sigh this time.  
“Don't take it personally, Inspector. It is just business.” he repeated. Greg opened his mouth to reply when a text came into his phone. He ignored it and went to speak “Listen here-” he was interrupted by another text sounding. He rummaged into this pocket and retrieved his phone. He stared at it for a moment before standing “I've got to go.” Greg said, causing Mycroft to frown. “We are in a meeting.” he objected. Greg shook his head “Not anymore we aren't.” he said before hurrying from the room.  
Anthea poked her head inside as Greg fled passed her “Sir?” she asked. Mycroft contorted his lips into a tight line “Keep surveillance on him.” he ordered and off she went, tapping away on his phone. 

Mycroft brought up the feet of the outside of the building where Greg was now hailing a cab “What are you up to?” Mycroft mused, mumbling to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo. Sorry I've been so shitty at keeping this updated. Life and stuff, you know how it is. I'll make up for it though! Hope you liked this chapter, and as always, feedback is much appreciated. Cheers!


End file.
